


Now You See the Light

by aces_low



Series: drabbles and ish [5]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces_low/pseuds/aces_low
Summary: War is Hell and Hell is Bastogne and Joe Toye has no idea why he can't stop staring at George Luz.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a music lyric prompt. Lyric was "Now you see the light" from the song Out on Patrol by the Offspring.
> 
>  Not edited at all, whoops!
> 
> This is not meant to be a representation of the real men, they are only based on the characterizations from the HBO series.

War is hell. War is fire and ice and blood and death. It’s not a place for laughter, it’s no place for bright smiles and even brighter eyes. Love has no place in war.

Joe Toye had gone into the war thinking he was prepared for whatever it could throw at him. He is a tough son of a bitch, who can remain calm when there is cause for panic, and will stop at nothing to keep his men safe. 

 

What he hadn’t been prepared for was George Luz. Luz, a tech sergeant in Joe’s platoon, who is as affable as he is irritating. Toye doesn’t know what to do with George Luz at first, because he comes across a bit like a trouble maker, he’s got a penchant for imitating anyone and everyone, and has a bit of a mouth on him, but he’s a competent solider and everyone in Easy Company likes him. 

Toye’s not so sure, there’s something about the guy that’s gotten under his skin and he can’t decide if it’s in a good way or a bad way. He responds to most of Luz’s jokes with an eye roll or an irritated huff, but every once in a while, Luz will throw out a sly, cutting remark that makes Joe laugh before he can even think to stop himself. Anytime that happens Luz meets his eyes and smirks until Joe can steel his expression back to stony and aggressive.

He often finds himself standing near Luz, without consciously deciding to do so. He tends to get these urges to touch him, grab onto his arm, pull him in closer. Thankfully, Joe never acts on these particular urges, until the night they get their jump wings. 

 

He’s already had one too many drinks, he’s just been standing around the bar by himself, and with those extra drinks in him he can’t fool himself as to why. Luz had either been appointed to bartend, or appointed himself, Joe doesn’t know. 

He feels loose and slow and when Luz leans into him across the bar he can’t stop himself from grabbing onto his lapels, like he’s wanted to do for months, and pull him in so their faces are only inches away from each other. He realizes what he’s doing a moment too late, sees a slight flicker of fear pass through Luz’s bright, shining eyes.

“Luz, just get me a drink,” he says, hoping to play this situation off as teasingly aggressive, instead of whatever it is he’s actually doing. And Joe sure would like to know it himself.

Luz’s face breaks out in an almost painful looking smile, his whole face scrunching up with it.

 

Joe tries to keep his distance from Luz after that night, at least for a while. He doesn’t trust himself to not grab him again, to pull him close again, to…do _what_ with Luz that close, he’s not sure. Unfortunately, he still has a tendency to stare, to look for Luz within a crowd of soldiers. He’s not sure what he’s hoping to see, what he’s looking for, except maybe for the fact that whenever Luz catches him looking he doesn’t look confused or like Joe is overstepping, he usually smiles impishly and stares right back until Joe breaks the gaze.

Once they’re out of training it gets better, but also worse. He doesn’t have as much time to concentrate on Luz, to wonder what about the man is so interesting to him. But he also can’t help but search him out when there are times of stillness, when they can all take a breath. Joe can’t, not right away, not until all his men are accounted for, not until he sees Luz sitting around making everyone nearby laugh. Only then can Joe exhale.

 

Joe knows there’s something wrong with him when he lets Luz talk all through Pittsburgh. Back home, he’s punched guys for doing less in the theater. He tries to tell himself it’s because Lipton is next to him, and he wouldn’t approve of him hitting Luz. But in all honesty, the thought of it doesn’t even occur to Joe until they’re walking out of the makeshift theater, the film unfinished. 

Luz offers him a cigarette, not as an apology for his obnoxious behavior, but just because that’s what he does, Luz has never been stingy with sharing his smokes.

“Did you enjoy the movie?” Luz asks, as they trail slowly after their company.

“I wouldn’t know, I barely got to watch it,” Joe complains with no real heat behind his words.

Luz grins. “Once this is all over, you should come visit, we’ve got a great theater in town.”

Instead of saying something like ‘I never want to watch a movie with you again,’ which is the truth, he says “that sounds nice.” 

Which is, surprisingly, also the truth.

George smiles again then, one of his big, bright smiles, that make the corners of his eyes crinkle and shows nearly all his teeth. 

Joe can’t help but smile back.

That’s the last time Joe sees George’s smile so big, and his eyes so bright for the rest of his time in the war.

 

Who would have thought that hell would actually be freezing cold? Joe knows his Bible, goes to Mass every Sunday like he should. He’s almost positive that every mention of hell has been about fire, about burning. Joe knows different now. 

Hell is the winter in Belgium. It’s watching his men, his _friends_ , freezing in their foxholes. It’s his shoes being blown away after one moment of carelessness, and suffering the consequences of not wanting to bother anyone with the task of finding him some new boots. It’s kraut artillery that comes at any time of day or night. It’s the death that’s all around, it’s the numbness that seeps in through his skin.

 

Hell is seeing that dull, lost look in Luz’s eyes, when he stares down at the space where Joe’s leg used to be. Even writhing in pain, Joe can see it, the spark in his eyes is gone, his face looks worn and tired. Luz wanders away after just a moment, unable to look at him again. Joe understands.

 

Joe goes through surgery, lays in a hospital bed for weeks. He wrestles with his guilt. His guilt for leaving Easy to fight the war alone, his guilt that Bill is laying in the bed right beside his, his guilt for extinguishing the light in Luz’s eyes. He knows he’s let everyone down, disappointed them. Luz is not going to want to have to see him in this state, he wouldn’t blame him.

 

He’s back in his home in Pennsylvania only a week when the first letter arrives. Luz’s letter is fairly standard, much the same as all the other letters he’s received. It just tells him about some of the things he missed out on after he’d left, an update on Luz’s life, and an inquiry on Joe’s well-being. It’s so formal, and so unlike Luz that Joe throws it away.

Instead of the correspondence ending there, Joe receives another letter, a week later. It’s still more formal than anything he’d ever expect from Luz, but he talks more about acclimating himself back into civilian life, he also, once again, asks about how Joe is doing. It doesn’t tie his stomach up in knots the way the first one had, but he still throws it away.

Despite his lack of response, letters continue to come. Almost every week Joe receives a letter from George Luz, and every week the words sound more and more like the man he knew at Toccoa. He still finds that he rolls his eyes more often than he laughs out loud at one of Luz’s jokes, but the familiarity is like a balm to his frozen heart. Some days he thinks he’s never thawed from Bastogne, that he may feel cold and stuck forever. But Luz’s letters remind him that Bastogne is not all there ever has been, all there ever will be.

Joe never writes back. He’s tried a few times, but his words come out clunky and wrong. He doesn’t know what he wants to say, doesn’t know what he’s thinking or feeling, he doesn’t have the words. Yet, Luz keeps writing, even though it’s always a one-sided conversation. He doesn’t threaten to stop writing if he doesn’t hear from Joe, doesn’t give him grief for only taking, never giving. 

As the letters continue there are hints in Luz’s words, feelings conveyed that Joe recognizes in himself. Luz doesn’t say much, doesn’t provide the words to what Joe desperately wishes he could understand. He doesn’t say he misses him, yet Joe knows he does. He doesn’t say that Joe is the only one he writes to like this, yet Joe knows he is. 

It’s when Luz slips in a reference to the movie they watched in France, and the theater in his town, that Joe understands. After months of his letters Joe can see what Luz has been saying all this time, without putting it into words.

Joe knows it’s his turn now, to show Luz that he understands, that he’s not alone. 

 

When he shows up on Luz’s doorstep two days later he can’t help but feel nervous, leaning heavily on his prosthetic as it bites into his thigh, as Luz just stares in shocked confusion for a full minute. 

“I thought maybe I’d come see one of those films you’re always going on about,” Joe says.

It’s awkward and clearly rehearsed, but Luz just laughs, his smile widening and his eyes shine as bright as ever.

“I knew you would,” he says, leading Joe into the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. If you ever want me to write something send me a prompt over on tumblr @aces-low.


End file.
